


like my heart is chasing me down

by scandalous



Series: Season of Kink 2019 [14]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Comeplay, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation in Bathroom, Repression, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 16:30:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20312575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalous/pseuds/scandalous
Summary: House goes to the bathroom and finds a surprise.





	like my heart is chasing me down

**Author's Note:**

> for seasonofkink with the square "masturbation". It's About The Repression
> 
> title from townie by mitski. 
> 
> enjoy!

House doesn't expect to hear moaning when he goes to one of the bathrooms at the hospital. 

And yet there it is, high-pitched, downright whiny and pathetic, and he's thrown off his rhythm for a few moments, his hand weakening around his cane before he grips at it tight. Well, someone's getting off in the bathroom. You gotta do what you gotta do, he understands, but then—

"Oh  _ God _ , House…"

It's Chase. 

All the blood in his body rushes southward, and House stares in dumbfounded surprise at the wall. His stomach furls into knots and he can barely breathe as he presses his ear against Chase's stall, his head swimming. Chase is getting off to him. Of all people. 

It's not that he's surprised Chase wants him, no. It's the fact he's getting off at the hospital bathroom, the fact he sounds oh so very pretty while calling out his name. He's being far too loud, too— does he have any shame? Perhaps he thinks he's being quieter than he really is. 

"Fuck, oh m-my God, House," he breathes. 

He almost wants to interrupt him. To say  _ what, you called? _ and kiss him. He almost wants to fuck him out of pity, hands around him, roaming around his body as he slams into him without a care in the world. He could do that, he could be an ass and just pound into Chase and never speak of it again. He doesn't know if Chase would stay as his employee after that. 

But, but— it'd be so easy. It'd be so easy to wreck him, to leave him as a panting, desperate mess. To get himself off and leave him like that, destroyed. It'd be so easy to go in, open the door, watch him as his eyes widen, as he shrinks on himself like he's been caught committing the Original Sin. 

He  _ is _ the forbidden fruit, after all. 

But for some reason, he can't. He stops himself every time he leans towards the stall door, too entranced by Chase's moans to interrupt them, too deep into his own thoughts to possibly make them into a reality. He doesn't even know if he actually wants Chase, his hardness could just be a natural reaction to hearing one of his employees get off. Hearing Chase get off to him certainly does wonders for his superiority complex, and it certainly does wonders for Chase's inferiority complex. 

Ah, what a match, really. 

He tries to think about how Chase looks in his stall. He pictures his face flushed red, hair sticking to his forehead, sweating, with his pants and boxers pulled down haphazardly. And he's got a hand wrapped around his own length, his other hand free— maybe with something to jerk off to. A picture, maybe. Maybe just his thoughts. He can't be too sure. The stalls are too high for him to peep, too— it's a shame. 

Chase has been with a knack for photography lately, too. Taking photos seemingly at random, of various places and people— is that what he's jerking off to? A picture of him, looking okay, maybe looking even angry. It'd be accurate for Chase to get off to him looking angry. 

"Oh H-House, fuck, want you…" he breathes out, stuttering and letting out soft moans. 

He can almost do it. He can almost push in, take what's rightfully his. Have Chase melt underneath him. He knows he's going to release soon, that he'll be too spent to take House. It's now or never. He has to do something or listen to him come. 

He swallows thickly and knocks on the door. 

"Anyone here?"

Chase downright yelps like a kicked puppy. 

"It's me, wombat," he says. "Open the door if you're so desperate for my dick."

"House," he breathes, slowly reaching for the stall door and pulling it open. And oh, he was right — there's a photo in his hands, but it looks decidedly blurry. Like that's the best shot he could get of House without him noticing what he was doing, and yet he still got off to it. 

Chase's face is a bright shade of pink, his hair sticking to his face unflatteringly, a mess overall, his legs spread just a little and his hand on his dick still. 

"I'm right here," he says, pulling down his pants and boxers with one swift motion, pushing Chase right against the stall wall. "Can I?"

Chase looks at him with wide, hopeful eyes, letting the photo drop to the floor as he digs his nails into House's shoulders. "Yes," he breathes. 

That's enough incentive for House to break. He pushes closer to him, pushing his tongue into his mouth and moaning, eyes fluttering shut as he clings onto Chase for dear life. The make-out is sloppy, messy, tongues meeting and their lips mashing together in a frenzy of passion, quick enough he can't quite tell where his body ends and Chase's begins. 

He pulls off after a few seconds, aligning himself better so they get off, both of their cocks pushed together with how close they are to one another, bodies slammed together. His hips buck up as Chase's do as well, friction making pre-come sputter out of his cock. He moans softly, still kissing Chase from time to time, feasting on his pretty mouth, his lips. 

"You've sank quite low," he tells Chase as he grinds up against him. "Jerking off to a blurry photo of me. How desperate can you get?"

Chase scoffs, even as he pales, even as he lets out desperate moan after desperate moan. "Would it have been okay if it was a great photo of you?" he shoots back. 

"Maybe," he replies, pulling him into yet another hungry kiss, all teeth and tongue. "It would have certainly been less shameful. You're a desperate whore."

"I'm n-not a whore—"

"Your boner for me contradicts that," he says, leaning down to kiss from his jaw down his neck, peppering bites over it, down to his shoulder. "Only hookers like me, Robert. I should get to paying you."

"House," he groans, clinging to him harder, hips bucking up against him. "Please."

"Yes, I'll give you your check," he mocks, driving his hips forward, rolling right against him, both their lengths so close yet so far to release, soft groans leaving his mouth as he tries to hold off. "Don't worry, you'll be my personal whore. Although you've always kind of been it."

"House," he moans desperately. "Please, oh god, please!"

"Of course you've got a thing for being humiliated," he mumbles right into his neck, nibbling at it. "You've been my employee for four years now. You love getting degraded."

Chase writhes underneath him, wriggling and whimpering, his hips bucking up right into House's abdomen. "Please! House, please, oh god, please, need- need you—!"

He almost wants to be flattered by Chase's desperation for him. How he's aching for him to touch him. He stops himself right in time, though, reminds himself he can't grow attached to the pretty thing squirming underneath him. That's never worked out for him. 

"Shh," he coos, leaning down to wrap a hand around Chase's cock, starting to jerk him off in torturously slow motions, watching as he comes undone even more so. It's like watching a bomb go off in slow motion, his panting and his blissed-out expression, hair a mess and his mouth agape with  _ need _ . 

"House," he breathes, and it's clear his vocabulary has been greatly decimated. How it's just his name and pleas now. It's cute. He smiles at him wolfishly, that predatory glint in his eyes before he pulls him into yet another kiss. 

Chase comes first; he comes hard, eyes rolling back as his hips buck up fruitlessly into House's palm, it slick with his seed as he releases. He pants out, moaning and whimpering, wriggling like he's trying to get out of the confines of his body without much of a result. 

House mindlessly pulls his hand away, scooping out what he can get of Chase's cum before licking his hand clean. He does it slow, his tongue reaching to his palm, swallowing it all, and he can see how Chase's knees go weak, how he pales with need. 

"C'mon," he says when he finishes his little show, grabbing his wrist, pulling it closer to his crotch. "Get me off. It's not like you've been dying to, anyway."

Chase squeaks a little and wraps his hand around his cock, starting to jerk him off. It's a lot faster and less teasing than House's own work, eyes fixated on his cock rather than on House, his gaze lapping up the cum that will soon be released all by itself. 

House watches Chase curiously, like a puzzle— how his nice, dainty hand wraps around his length, how he stares on and on, focused on making House feel good. He doesn't let out much noise, only a few groans and mumbles of pleasure, before he releases, going slack, downright boneless as he climaxes all over Chase's hand. 

Chase quickly laps the cum up, licking his hand clean, a blissed out expression on his face. 

"You really are a slut," he chides. 

Chase raises a brow, hand still to his mouth. "You're the one who licked my cum off his hand first."

He can't exactly argue with that. 

He pulls Chase into another kiss before tucking himself back, buckling his jeans. "I'll get going. Cuddy's probably thinking I'm off torturing a patient."

Chase swallows and nods, pulling his boxers and pants up as well. "I'll… get going too," he says hesitantly. 

House snorts a little, shakes his head at him. "Oh, don't worry, slut. I'll fuck you soon enough."

Chase bites his lip hard and nods as he shuffles out of the stall. House watches him impassively, a small smile on his lips. 


End file.
